Define 'platonic'
by Jayjay1304
Summary: Felicity reflects on her relationship with Oliver. (Rated M for adult references, there's not really any smut)


She should've known it would have eventually turned out like this.

Because it was _completely obvious_ that underneath their professional façades there were _actual _feelings and that this whole thing that was going on could only end up in flames.

The first time it happened was in the aftermath of a borderline pornographic game of strip poker; when the rest of the team had left with heated cheeks, and carrying half of their clothes, leaving only her and _him_.

Somehow he knew how to count cards, which was a part of the reason why she was left in just her good underwear.

The other reason was to get a rise out of him, which she now knows, was a very, _very_ bad idea.

And it was all going swell until he_ took off his boxer briefs_.

For absolutely _no reason at all_.

Later he'd reveal that it was 'to get a rise out of her' but at that moment, even in her drunken state, Felicity realised she was sort of, maybe, definitely caught in her own trap.

Not to mention how embarrassingly turned on she was and that it was definitely evident to him.

One thing led to another, and Felicity found herself giving a sloppy blowjob in the dimmed light of her apartment.

But it didn't end there, oh no, Felicity was pretty sure that he had fucked her against at least four surfaces of her apartment and she was sure because she was the one who had had to clean each and every surface. And she was pretty sure that even if she could have all the bottles ever made of Mr Muscle, she would never be able to clean the memories of that mind blowing, life ruining night she'd had.

So she'd been screwed from the start really.

_Literally, screwed, ha._

Well, the morning after had started off pretty normal, I mean, yeah she was pretty sticky but she showered and put on some makeup and a pretty dress and went into work. If he'd wanted something with her he'd be in her bed. But the cold, empty pillow showed otherwise so she'd assumed he'd want to act like it had never happened. She'd had the whole thing planned out in her head, she'd say hello to him, hang up her coat, say hi to Diggle and be a good EA and plan meetings and fetch coffee.

Well, maybe not the coffee part.

But then he'd given her that kicked puppy look when she said a brief hello instead of her usual babble, which was kind of confusing seeing as he was the one who had left her alone.

Actually, no, the real confusing part was later that evening, when he'd finished up on the salmon ladder, walked over to her chair only to push her up against a pillar and finger her until she screamed.

Maybe it was payback for giving him the cold shoulder.

Or maybe he wanted a physical 'thing' with her?

She'd rather think that it was the first but it slowly evolved to become the latter.

It came to a point where she'd given him the window key and didn't bat an eyelid when she was pushed up against her front door at 1am .

But then there were the things he did that had her completely perplexed. After sex, any other guy would probably just throw the condom away and leave but he- he wiped her down after they'd finished. He'd _cuddle_ with her and who would've thought that Oliver-freakin-Queen was a cuddler? He'd stroke her hair, her cheek, her sides and rub her shoulders when they were tense. But the real puzzler was the times when they weren't swapping bodily fluids. She'd get home, expecting to be pushed up against a wall or swept off to bed but instead he'd lead her to the couch and hold her while they watched The Big Bang Theory or Doctor Who, he'd order dinner in and they'd eat it with chopsticks, no matter what it was, always with chopsticks. She'd fall asleep on her bed, exhausted, and when she'd woken up he'd have taken out her laundry and dried it.

She had no idea that a 'friends with benefits' relationship could turn so…_domestic_.

But now Felicity was thinking that maybe this 'friends with benefits' relationship wasn't really that way for Oliver at all. I mean, it was kind of probable that Felicity would perceive their relationship like that, Oliver never really was a good talker and Felicity was always to naïve for her own good.

But then again, Felicity always thought that if Oliver ever did want something with her; he'd come right out and say it. If it was the old Oliver she was dealing with, she would've brushed it off as some kind of game he was playing but this is the new and improved Oliver she was thinking about;_ Oliver 2.0, new and improved! Comes with feelings and newfound fidelity!_

Maybe she should just leave it. He's always cared for her; maybe it's just plain and simple platonic love that he caters for her.

_Platonic my ass._

Because when she finally snapped and screamed at him to define what 'this' was, he'd just stared at her, not moving.

So it could possibly mean that he was just to stunned at her sudden outburst to proclaim his undying love for her.

Or maybe it was that he'd never felt that way and was trying to think of a way to let her down easily.

The latter is more probable in Felicity's mind.

_Oh Felicity._

But then her doorbell rings, and she finds a parcel on her doorstep, adorned with an _arrow_ _green_ ribbon. There's a note inside with Oliver's obvious scratchy scrawl written upon it;

_Looks like I won that scavenger hunt, I always keep my promises._

And then his arms are wrapped around her waist, nose buried in her neck, and he's holding a very special looking bottle of Lafite Rothschild

_He's used the window again._

So that's when Felicity comes to the conclusion that she doesn't actually care about what her and Oliver are, as long as they are a something.

As long as he's in her life, she'll be happy.

And Felicity knows that this hug screams 'I love you' but she won't say anything about it.

Because with them, words aren't entirely necessary.

But a bottle of Lafite Rothschild will do just fine.


End file.
